


Veil

by earliegrey



Series: smokescreen and sins [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Yakuza/Spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earliegrey/pseuds/earliegrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kagami has always hated infiltration missions the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veil

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ Earlie here again~ I decided to do Kagami’s side to Catnip since I was working on other oneshots of the same series and realized a lot of what I wrote didn’t fit well with the context of those oneshots. ^_T How sad…ah wells, I included them here instead haha.
> 
> Anyways, I’m still trying to figure out how to write Kagami, so if he is a bit ooc or different from other depictions in S&S please excuse me.
> 
> It’s advised that you first read Catnip to have more of an understanding of what’s happening. I leave a lot of important details on shared events because I don’t want to repeat them here. xD
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy this!

“Choose someone else,” Kagami says, dragging his mud stained shoes against the carpet in an effort to scrape it off. Aida is leaning back against the edge of the desk, arms cross and a bit ticked at the crud on the floor.

“Kagami, you’re our best, we don’t want to send anyone less capable,” Aida says calmly. Kagami jaw tightens just a bit—she’s fluffing up his ego again, too bad he’s not falling for it, not this time.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be anywhere near this guy, no thanks,” Kagami spits, and he throws the fat folder back on the table. The papers slide out in a messy cascade. “Do you remember what this fucking guy did to me—“

“We’ve seen the reports,” Hyuuga interrupts from beside her, his arms  _also_  crossed. “You  _did_  provoke him though—“

“Not the point,” Kagami grumbles, pulling his hands from his pockets before throwing himself onto the sofa against the wall. The leather squeaks under his weight when he sinks into it. There’s a part in him that doesn’t particularly care about the man, but he’s childish (and possibly suicidal) enough to keep up the farce.

“I’m not doing it.”

Hyuuga opens his mouth to retort before—

_“Kagami Taiga.”_

_That_  gets his attention if not the sound of a pen cracking under a tight fist. Aida is smiling sweetly, creepy as fuck, but there’s a static in the air and the pressure in the room is squashing the air out of lungs—from both him  _and_  Hyuuga.

Can’t boss take a joke?

“You are a cop, a special agent. Our ace.” Kagami doesn’t breathe as he watches Aida gently collect the strewn papers back into its folder. Even Hyuuga looks wary of her.

“You are to do what you are told, no questions asked. Have you forgotten, Kagami-kun?”

Brown eyes, slit and curved, bore down on him as she approaches him closer,  and Kagami  _shudders_ —

“This an order.”

Kagami watches the folder fall heavy into his open hands and he suppresses a sigh.

“…Yes, ma’am.”

—

Aomine Daiki.

He’s been on the police’s black list for having killed many without guilt and evidence linking him to the crime. The police has had this man in their files for years, ready to make an arrest if he ever slipped on a job.

But as ready as they were, he never did.

There’s quite a bit of history behind the man, after all, the yakuza hadn’t care to clean it up. Things were relatively normal for him in high school; he was a normal boy who skipped class too much, his head up in the clouds as he daydreamed about big-breasted women.

His passion lied in basketball, but his family had trained him in kendo for years and he was a national champion, or placed second or third whenever he chose basketball games over boring things like  _kendo._

But things went downhill when he was twenty, fresh out of school, when his old man gave out from health problems. The family’s increasing debts and the mounting pressure to keep his family stable forced him into selling drugs and taking jobs from gangs.

There were police reports filed on him after that; petty theft to the robbery of a convenience store, from gang fights to the more personalized hit. Soon after, he was in the middle of a gang war with more enemies than friends, and an innocent family kept in the dark and in danger.

A friend, Akashi’s son, offered him insurance for his allegiance, loyalty, and skills.

Kagami remembers him.

He ran into him once, when he started as an agent, stupid and brash as any boy freed from a hellish training camp and given a working gun. Hyuuga said he was lucky because he was left in pieces against the alley’s wall. A few smashed ribs and a broken forearm, cracked cleanly down the radius.

Kagami was a month out of commission but at least he wasn’t killed.

(A few years later, Aida hands him a mission folder, thick and fat with secrets, with Aomine Daiki’s name buried deep in the middle of the mess.)

—

Kagami has always hated infiltration missions the most.

They require from him patience and time, the ability to be secretive and discreet, and a delicate touch with a whole thing about acting—Kagami has none of those.

Aida was adamant that he take the mission, not because he is the best of the best from their agents, nor is it because he knew how to keep secrets, but because—well, Kagami is the only one who can do it.

For a lack of a better word, Kagami is…ruthless. Because of that reason, he’s their hidden weapon, all personal records having been erased from the general police and public knowledge.

He’s the pawn who dirties his hands with blood as the government and underworld play their game of chess and  _doesn’t mind_  the stain. In fact, he doesn’t question the morals of what he’s ordered to do.

Years in fieldwork has taught him that wavering between the black and white, right and wrong, jeopardized the end goal.

If there are instructions from on high to kill a man by lodging a bullet in his extremities and then shredding his limbs off and throwing them off Tokyo Tower—hell, he’ll do it.

He does have an odd sense of justice after all.

—

The girl’s name is Ushida Himeko, once known as  _Momoi Satsuki_.

It’s his first mission, labeled extremely high-risk, and Kagami doesn’t understand why.

The mission objective is simple: escort her to America and make sure she reaches their American headquarters. She’s being protected, and _protection on an international scale_  means that she probably did something  _very wrong_  to have a someone after her.

And after seeing her clueless, almost childlike countenance, Kagami couldn’t think of anything that would warrant this kind of special treatment.

“It’s our end of the deal,” is all Hyuuga tells Kagami when he pointed it out, and he’s sure there’s more to this besides a yakuza  _asking_  them to babysit some chick. “She doesn’t remember, but she’s still a liability.”

He would have liked to ask more questions for the sake for asking questions, but agents don’t speak, they do; so he bows his head and leaves.

—

First impression, has him think she’s a bit fucked in the head. She’s a bit loopy with a childlike curiosity of the things around her and doesn’t know why there’s a red-haired man leading her around but she accepts it anyways with a girlish giggle.

She makes some kind of connection between Kagami Taiga and some boy she knows (or once knew,) and tells him about this boy for a while, before she asks Kagami if he’s seen  _Aomine-kun,_ because _Aomine-kun always had the bad habit of running around and being provoked into street fights._

Kagami flinches, remembering the murderous intent that was just  _dripping_  from the famous hitman, his sword unsheathed and coated with blood, and isn’t that the understatement of the year.

He mutters a quiet  _no_ , and she gazes out the window, forgetting about the conversation they just had. Ten minutes later, she tells him, for the tenth time,  _You remind me of a friend of mine, Aomine Daiki…have you heard of him?_

The flight to America is a long one.

—

It’s supposed to be a simple escort mission but it’s still high risk, so Kagami has his head nearly cracked open with a pipe during an ambush.

Once they leave the airport, there’s a party of hired American thugs, dressed in suits and armed with guns, demanding him to  _hand over the girl._

It could have played out like a scene straight from a Hollywood action movie, but Kagami’s English stinks like shit, so instead, he shoots them, renders her unconscious, and hijacks a pick up truck from some civilian guy that left to take a leak.

(He’s pretty sure if Hyuuga ever catches news that he  _knocked_  out someone they were supposed to protect and even steal a car no less, Kagami would never hear the end of it. But it’s easier to transfer a limp body than one that is slow as hell. And what better with a car than on his back.)

A car chase, an accidental explosion of garage in Los Angles, and a near-death experience later, Kagami has her delivered  _safely_ , but sleeping, to the headquarters. He’s exhausted but a message has come that he’s to return immediately to Japan the next morning.

Fucking Hyuuga.

Tired as he is, Kagami doesn’t sleep that night and instead wanders the dark streets and into bars, trembling a little bit from leftover adrenaline and the cold.

The next morning, Kagami ends up naked in the bed of some run down motel with his battle-worn clothes scattered on the floor, and the previous night a blur to him.

 —

He expects Hyuuga to strap him down to a chair and have him listen to him blare about being more  _delicate_  during escort missions, but Hyuuga doesn’t.

Instead, he hands him a folder, marked  _classified_  and crinkled at the corners.

“What’s this?” Kagami asks, skimming the contents inside. There’s not much in it, besides grayscale pictures of three men, one of them being a disgustingly, fat slob.

**Ginza Hotel, fifth floor bar, 22:00, Matsumaru Kenta.**

“A test,” Hyuuga answers, his back to Kagami as he stares contemplatively out the glass window. Kagami squints after him, at what he’s probably staring at, but there’s not much to see besides the gray and dirty cityscape.

“We can’t trust him, at least not yet.”

Kagami raises a brow. So, this is one of Hyuuga’s trial missions, and Kagami has had many of them in the early days of his career. As frustrating as they were, his loyalties were constantly tested over and over until Hyuuga decided to let him off probation.

“O…kay? I’m assuming I’m not the one making the hit.” He doesn’t hide the confusion in his voice. Kagami slides the folder back onto the desk and shoves his hands into his pockets. “What’s his mission?”

“The transaction between Matsumaru and Akashis needs to be ensured, but there’s a faction from the Akashis that had past dealings with the man. They want Matsumaru dead,” Hyuuga says. He turns around and gives a Kagami a sly grin. “I told Aomine to keep them alive.”

“So…you want me to make sure he keeps them alive,” Kagami scoffs. Great, another babysitting mission.

“They can be dead for all I care,” Hyuuga says, waving a dismissive hand in the air. Kagami’s only mildly surprised but very confused.

“See what he does, then finish the job.”

—

Five years can change a man.

If it was possible, Aomine Daiki looks more blood thirsty than he had been the night Kagami ran into him. There are visible scars of lighter skin along his neck, barely hidden away underneath the suit he wore.

There’s a change in the way he carries himself though. Kagami had remembered him as awkward, too good at kenjutsu for his body to handle. Now, Aomine is poised, controlled, and  _suppressed._  There’s power in even his minute movements, tamed but still deadly.

He’s  _confident_  as he approaches a random woman and, in the midst of weaving sweet lies around her, slips a dissolving pill into her drink. As the hitman leads her away, Kagami sees his hand slip far down her back, copping a feel.

 _Womanizer_ , Kagami scoffs as he orders another drink on the rocks, keeping mental tabs on the hitman and then the fat slob eating their meals at his 7 and 3 o’clock.

Ten minutes later, the assumed associates of Aomine’s stroll up to the bar and sit next to him, flesh colored earpieces plugged into their ear.

Kagami keeps drinking, idly listening to the chatter, the thuds of heavy shot glasses against the oak counter top, the clash of utensils against entree plates. He watches the time; Aomine was only given an hour.

Half an hour passes, and Kagami doesn’t scream or duck when he hears gunshots fire beside him.

—

Kagami loses sight of him within five minutes of tailing their chase. He has to give the hitman credit (however much he doesn’t want to.) Aomine is fast and clean, not leaving a trail of overturned chairs and potted plants.

It’s hard to find him without an obvious bread crumb trail.

It’s the faint sound of a gunshot that alerts him to the stairwell when he finds him at last. Kagami is winded, two flights of stairs above, and peering over the side of the rails.

Aomine’s back is to him, he doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat.

 _“Please, please, spare me—“_  Aomine shoves his gun deep against the man’s jugular and without a hesitation,  _shoots._

 _“Aomine-san, I’ll—I’ll split the money—“_  the other man wheezes, throat clenching until his voice is barely a squeak. There’s a sickening crunch of a bone breaking before a blood-curdling scream pierces Kagami’s ear.

The door shuts; sobs and pained muffled screaming wrack the empty stairwell.

(Kagami waits three seconds before he draws out his glock.)

—

“He’s good,” Kagami mutters as he throws himself back, sprawling all over the couch, arms stretching everywhere. “He got them in ten minutes, shot one guy, stabbed the other.”

There’s a long silence from Hyuuga as he turns several pages from a leaflet on his desk. “That’s to be expected.”

—

For the next few weeks, Kagami runs from here to there, because information on an exchange or a target’s location is constantly changing. And Kagami is more of the “do” than the “think” type of guy, so he just sucks it up and makes the trip whenever he’s ordered.

So, Hyuuga sends him on small missions: kill this guy, kill that guy, make sure this guy doesn’t get killed, kill that guy but spare this one, various little things.

Kagami doesn’t even know if what he’s doing is part of the grander scheme of things, but he doesn’t ask.

He never does.

—

“Matsumaru,” Hyuuga repeats and Kagami has his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on the soles of his feet.

“Sounds familiar.”

(And it  _is_  because it’s that disgusting slob of a man from a few weeks ago, and when Kagami arrives at his compound, a vial of cyanide in his pocket, he’s pleasantly surprised to find that he isn’t the only one there.)

—

Aomine has Kagami pinned against the wall with one of those tiny scalpels pressed against his neck. He’s stronger than he imagined him to be, and that  _sucked_  because Kagami’s always won, he had always won however dirty his tactics are.

(But now here’s a guy who can wrestle him to the ground, who actually hesitated to kill him when he had the chance, and is a tiny bit stronger and skilled than Kagami is. Kagami can’t deny the aftermath of adrenaline pulsing so rapidly in his veins, and he  _wants_  a bit more but—)

“I’m a special agent, the laws don’t touch me,” Kagami says when he tucks his gun back into the small of his back and he feels eyes, speculative and heavy, boring into the side of his head.

“Peachy,” Aomine only mutters under his breath. Kagami steps right up to him, sizing him up for a while, they’re the same height almost, and then—smirks.

“Well, I’m done here. It’s been fun. See you later.”

And he means it.

—

Kagami knows he’s watching him, so he pretends to act drunk, if anything just to mess around with his head.

His target is enjoying it all too much, the boisterous laughs and the way Kagami is just  _slathering_  himself all over him.

But Kagami wants to laugh when Aomine nearly spits his drink when the man gropes his ass—then, he remembers he’s acting as a drunk so he does, all the while leaning close enough to slip his hand into the man’s pocket.

Kagami makes sure Aomine sees him, sees the thumb drive in his fingers before he looks him dead straight in the eye.

He smirks, sly and cheeky.

Aomine’s eyes widen, his glass nearly slips between his fingers that it’s  _fucking hilarious._

Before Kagami blows his cover from laughing at the stupid look on Aomine’s face, he pulls the man outside so he can quickly redecorate his face with a led bullet between the eyes.

—

Kagami’s instructions thereafter are simple.

He is to keep in contact with Aomine Daiki, if only to keep an eye out for any suspicious activities and to build “friendly” relations.

Kagami has always been a good tracker by instinct, and has puzzled his superiors and teammates alike when he just  _knows_  where someone’s ought to be at.

So he finds Aomine quickly and easily almost every time, and more times than not slides into the chair opposite and picks up the menu, chanting a long string of entrees at the waiter because he’s  _damn_  hungry.

“Why the fuck are you here again,” Aomine sighs over the rim of his wine. Kagami rolls his eyes and settles himself comfortably into the chair, showing no signs of moving. He decides against tossing the menu at Aomine’s face.

“Come on, show some humanity, I nearly got blown up,” Kagami says, as if it wasn’t already made obvious by his singed suit. “Besides, my wallet’s wrecked.”

Aomine leans back in his chair, draping an arm over the back, a half smirk forming on his face.”Not like you paid all the other ten times, kitten.”

Kagami shrugs, ignoring the stupid nickname, and contents to spear a piece of steak from Aomine’s plate.

Over the course of weeks and months, Kagami has managed to land a few more free meals with Aomine never complaining, but.

As for friendly relations…well. Who knows? Kagami’s only after his fat wallet and  _maybe_  his company on some of those lazy, after-the-kill nights or in-between mission days.

—

(He’s lying on a bed in a hotel, muscles loose and skin warm. Fingers, cool to touch, drag between his shoulder blades in light (soothing) circles, and the body lying on him is just as drunk as he is.

“Get off, fucker,” Kagami muffles and laughs into the sheets, too worn out to even care. He feels so good, so relaxed.

The man breathes deeply and shifts, throwing his weight to the side and Kagami laughs as he bounces just a bit.

“Hey. Go home,” the voice says with a chuckle, and a hand tangles into his hair and brushes down his neck, past the collar of his shirt, and along his spine.

“Don’t have one,” he mumbles, sleepy and his eyelids are closed.

“…A stray, huh. Well, you can always come home with me—“)

Nothing happens, or Kagami doesn’t remember anything happening.

He wakes up when a cleaning lady throws open his door and ushers him out, screaming about how he’s overstayed his time.

His shirt is rumpled beyond belief and he has a pounding headache that he has to deal with before he gets back on his way.

—

The jobs he’s been doing, Hyuuga explains, has given Kagami presence on the streets. Which makes sense as an infiltration tactic. With a reputation of a strong, ex-gang member, Kagami’s missions are now becoming more goal oriented, more Akashi-oriented.

Interfere with the drug exchange between Yamamoto and Gutama before Akashi’s men do.

Kill the leader of a rising family before Akashi’s men do.

Do whatever the shit he needs to do before Akashi’s men do it.

It takes him many months and almost fatal injuries for him to work his way to  _some_  semblance of infiltration. In short, he’s literally dancing his way into Akashi’s line of sight, showing off his awesomeness and hoping he’d get accepted.

Kagami never thought it’d work, but it did.

Somehow.

—

He’s on his own for three months, there’s no contact with the headquarters or instructions from Hyuuga at all, and it’s quite lonely and maddening.

Kagami is placed in the lowest rank, and tested every day, going through frustrating trial missions  _over and over_ , killing members of enemy families without so much a shred of remorse.

He proves his loyalty to the Akashis at least five times a day, every day, and slits the throat of the weak and the traitors while pushing away the grim thought of  _what if I’m caught._

The Akashis prize loyalty and familial bonds, only allowing the strongest and most devoted men to become members. They are pitched against each other, and anyone who’s backed down because of pain are killed.

It’s a messy process, Kagami thinks.

There’s so much blood on his hands and he’s lost count of how many men he’s twisted the neck of, and how many bullets he’s shredded into a person. Every night, he wonders when the bloodbath will end.

The paranoia doesn’t leave him for weeks, not until he gets a message.

_You’re on the black list, good work.—H._

 —

They call it talent but it’s really just hard work and his teenage years of being molded into the government’s weapon. Kagami is  _the_ rookie, having stood out from the rest with his much superior and honed fighting style and quick efficient kills.

He has climbed ranks in impressive time, barely three weeks in and his potential rivals some of the top hitmen in the Akashi’s family.

He’ll be in need of a partner to ease him into some of the Akashi’s more important jobs—the guy in the glasses says.

Kagami doesn’t argue. It’s better not to after he’s worked his way so far and for so long. Being killed or discovered now would defeat the entire purpose of what he’s been doing.

He asks for a name of his partner—if Midorima is oh-so-kind to divulge it.

 _Aomine Daiki_ , the doctor says and pushes up those glaring glasses of his.  _You should have heard of him._

 —

The name Aomine Daiki rings a bell—

“Long time no see, Ao-mi- _ne,_ ” he purrs while shoving the gun into the base of his neck.

 _—a very clear bell_  when a strong hand grabs the collar of his shirt and rams him back into the wooden beam of the door frame. Kagami hisses a little at the burn lancing up his spine.

He grins nonetheless, sneering up at the smirk on the hitman’s face just as he says, voice low and caught between a laugh and a growl. “Didn’t think you’d turn up here of all places.”

Kagami hides a breath of relief. It’s been too long since he’s actually had contact with anyone who knows who he is.

“Well, I did say top secret,” Kagami says, and licks his dry lips. “Didn’t say what for, where at, and how long.”

Aomine laughs and he lets his shirt go.

“And will you look at that. The stray kitty has finally followed me home.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of just not dealing with it, let’s say that Kagami’s agent organization is something that is like America’s FBI, but it has an international branch like Interpol…I suppose. Oh wells, I don’t want to look too into it, I'll probably approach the subject in another oneshot. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed it! I really enjoy writing this Kagami, let’s hope I can write more oneshots based in this verse~ Feel free to leave comments if you like it! I appreciate it a lot~


End file.
